


Razor Blade To My Heart

by Heather_Night



Series: Shake It Up [2]
Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Blindness, Branding, Cutting, Earthquakes, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21793108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: “Did you get bit or something?”Adrian jumped, his hand leaving his arm, looking guilty.Pope felt guilty for startling Adrian; he knew how to move so he made enough noise to let Adrian know when he was approaching.  It’s just that sometimes it was nice to look at the guy.  He’d never been much for staring at pretty faces but there was something about Adrian that drew his attention.He made sure to hit the floorboard that creaked so Adrian knew he was walking toward him.  “Let me see your arm.”
Relationships: Andrew 'Pope' Cody/Adrian Dolan
Series: Shake It Up [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570450
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Razor Blade To My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last story in this 25 prompt bingo card written with this pairing.

Pope had just finished dressing after his post-sex shower when the ground shifted beneath his feet.

_Earthquake_.

His mind quickly catalogued its characteristics. The abrupt jolt upset his balance enough to have him reach for the counter to steady himself. It was followed by a rolling sensation interspersed by sharp shakes. It felt like minutes but it was probably only seconds. 

This was most likely a large earthquake with an epicenter hundreds of miles away. That, however, didn’t stop concern from flooding Pope—Adrian’s balance was precarious at the best of times and that bump might’ve knocked him from his feet.

Bolting from the bathroom, Pope raised his voice. “Adrian! Where are you?”

Silence greeted his shout. Pope moved toward the kitchen where Adrian usually headed after sex and a shower; he loved coffee, and he loved brewing, and sharing, it with Pope.

Pope could see bare feet sticking out past the kitchen wall. “Adrian?!”

The feet twitched and Pope rounded the corner in time to see Adrian pushing himself onto his forearms. “Pope? What happened?”

Adrian’s dark blue eyes sought Pope’s general direction despite their blindness. 

Kneeling down next to him, looking for signs of injury, Pope answered. “Earthquake.” 

The blue gaze shuttered behind closed eyelids as Adrian made an inarticulate noise. When he swayed, Pope wrapped an arm around his shoulders, bolstering him up.

“Are you hurt?” Pope’s voice was gruffer than usual. He didn’t like seeing Adrian in pain. Well, some kinds of pain were okay but not like this.

Adrian shook his head no as he dipped his chin forward, hiding behind the curtain of too long hair. He leaned into Pope’s side, touching the left side of his face with his hand. 

_Mixed messages._

“Can you make it to the couch if I help you?” Pope wanted to get Adrian off the hard flooring. He could carry him but Adrian got touchy about things like that. Pope didn’t know if Adrian considered his help a slight on his independence, or his masculinity, but he’d been trying more and more to take his cues from the other man. 

He’d never put this much effort into living with someone before and he was finding it was a lot of hard work. Hard but rewarding.

“I think so?” Taking a deep breath, Adrian straightened; Pope immediately missed his weight against his side.

Pope pushed to his feet and then took Adrian’s hands, tugging him upright. Adrian reeled in place with one hand wrapped in Pope’s t-shirt while the other flailed for purchase. He seemed disorientated and Pope quickly wrapped an arm around Adrian’s waist. “Watch where you walk, I don’t need you stepping on broken glass or anything.” 

Instead of pointing out that he couldn’t watch anything because he was blind, Adrian leaned more heavily against Pope. The lack of sass was a concern but they made it to the couch without incident. Pope carefully turned Adrian around and settled him against the cushions before dragging the ottoman over and lifting Adrian’s legs onto it. Once Adrian was comfortable, he settled onto the couch next to him.

When Adrian tried to touch the side of his face—the side facing Pope—he intercepted his hand. “Let me see.” He pushed the soft, feathery strands back, trying to hook them behind Adrian’s ear. He wouldn’t exactly say Adrian’s ears were pointy but they, along with his dark blue eyes and high cheekbones, gave him an other-worldly look. Sort of like an elf in those movies his brothers had made him watch.

Gently grasping Adrian’s chin, Pope turned his head to get a better look; red blotches marred his left cheekbone and jawline. Red marks today meant purplish black bruising tomorrow. “Does your head hurt?”

Adrian shrugged. 

Pope rolled his eyes; Adrian almost always had some sort of headache these days. Although he did tell Pope orgasms helped with the pain. “Does it hurt more now than when you went to make coffee?”

Turning toward Pope, Adrian closed his eyes again. “Just feels…weird.”

Sometimes it was like playing Twenty Questions but he didn’t think Adrian was being obtuse on purpose. “Can you describe it?”

“Maybe a little—whoa.” Adrian swayed away from Pope’s touch.

At first Pope thought maybe there was an aftershock; he didn’t feel anything.

Pope tugged Adrian against his side to stabilize his balance. Adrian burrowed into his side and Pope couldn’t lie, not even to himself; he liked how Adrian sought him out like this. Whether it was sex or comfort or whatever, Pope liked the contact. Liked to be needed.

He waited to see if Adrian would wiggle away or say something but there was no movement. Only silence.

He didn’t really want to break the moment but Pope was worried. “Adrian?”

“Sorry. I was really dizzy for a moment. It’s better now.” Adrian settled his head more comfortably on Pope’s shoulder. He rubbed his left arm through the long sleeve t-shirt.

“Hey, did you hurt your arm?” That was the arm Adrian had broken—or Pope had broken—after Pope’s last cage match. “I think I should take you into town, let the doctor take a look at you.”

Adrian tensed in his arms, his hand dropping from the bend of his other arm. “My arm is fine. I don’t want to see a doctor. Definitely not _that_ doctor.” He started to pull back from Pope.

_That_ doctor had seen Adrian for a broken arm. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience; Pope had argued with the doctor who hadn’t wanted to waste his precious resources on an indentured slave although Pope wasn’t sure how much Adrian remembered about it because he’d been pretty out of it. 

Maybe not as out of it as Pope had thought. 

Adrian shifted next to him, scratching at his arm again. Sometimes what Adrian didn’t say was as important as what he did. If only Pope could figure out what scratching the inside of the elbow meant. Was he nervous? Was he injured?

He couldn’t make Adrian tell him. The guy was definitely stubborn in his own way. “Okay, okay. I won’t make you see _that_ doctor.” Pope pulled Adrian back against his side and Adrian went willingly.

The doctor in town was fine for the basics, like broken bones, but Adrian should be seen by a specialist. As far as Pope could tell, no one had checked Adrian out after he went blind. 

He wasn’t sure how he felt at the moment. As much as he felt drawn to Adrian, to protecting him, the thought of losing him scared the crap out of him.

Made him want to put some distance between them. Maybe if he did that it wouldn’t hurt as much when Adrian left him.

Everyone left him eventually.

-0-

Pope thought the most pressing problem was Adrian’s headaches but that might not be the case; he stood in the doorway and watched as Adrian scratched at the inside of his left elbow.

Again.

“Did you get bit or something?” 

Adrian jumped, his hand leaving his arm, looking guilty.

Pope felt guilty for startling Adrian; he knew how to move so he made enough noise to let Adrian know when he was approaching. It’s just that sometimes it was nice to look at the guy. He’d never been much for staring at pretty faces but there was something about Adrian that drew his attention.

He made sure to hit the floorboard that creaked so Adrian knew he was walking toward him. “Let me see your arm.”

Adrian actually whipped his arm behind his back. He was worse than Lena.

Sharp guilt radiated through Pope; he’d promised to be there for his niece but he’d abandoned her. Although she had a better life with her new family. He told himself that was a good thing.

“I wonder how you’re family’s doing. Are you going to call them?” 

How did Adrian know which buttons to push?

Or was Adrian interested in knowing about a certain family member? Deran was still a sore spot for Pope; he kept waiting for Adrian to leave him and go back to Deran. 

Although Deran supposedly had someone new. Did that bother Adrian?

Pope didn’t know and he didn’t know how to ask. 

“Hey, just ignore me.” Adrian looked guilty. Again. But why? He shook his head, strands of copper flying. “I know how to take your mind off your troubles.”

Adrian put his hand out—his right hand—and waited for Pope to take it.

He did. His hand was tugged until he knelt on the bed next to Adrian.

Rolling to his side, Adrian pulled out the lube. “How do you want me?”

“Naked.” Jesus, this guy killed him. Pope wanted to pound his anger, and his insecurities, into Adrian’s willing ass. No matter what Pope dished out, Adrian took it. Happily.

It didn’t take long for them both to shimmy out of their clothing. Adrian took advantage of the lube, paving the way for Pope’s dick with his own fingers.

There was something about watching Adrian’s long, thin fingers dipping in and out of his body—

Pope tumbled Adrian onto his back.

“Oomph.” Adrian, unlike previous sex partners, wasn’t intimidated. He pulled Pope down next to him and they wrestled for dominance.

It was a short-lived match as Pope came out on top, both of them panting.

Adrian kept his left leg straight on the bed while shifting his pelvis so that his right leg was up in the air.

Pope took advantage of the position, kneeling between Adrian’s leg and smearing his dick with lube, before sinking into Adrian’s hole.

Head thrown back, Adrian moaned but it wasn’t in pain. They’d been doing this long enough that Pope knew Adrian was into this from his flushed face, neck and chest to his restless shifting on the mattress.

Grabbing the leg Adrian held in the air, Pope yanked it higher, thumping it atop his shoulder.

“Fuuuck.” Pope didn’t think he could go any deeper if he tried. The angle was fucking perfect, the tight channel squeezing his cock. 

Adrian tossed his head from side to side, panting. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face red. With each thrust of his cock, Adrian made a noise close to a whimper but Pope could tell this wasn’t pain; Adrian was into this as much as he was.

Eyes flying open, Adrian startled Pope. “I need…I need…I need.” Pope smirked as Adrian his cock slammed home, derailing Adrian’s thought. 

Usually Pope had lost his ability to think by this time but for the moment he was able to enjoy the feel of Adrian squirming on his cock. At least until Adrian kicked his leg off of Pope’s shoulder, flexing it farther over head—Jesus fucking Christ, how flexible was he—

The angle changed again and Pope’s mind short circuited as he plunged even deeper into Adrian’s channel.

When he came back to himself, he could still see colored spots blooming despite his closed eyelids. Adrian’s chest was barely moving which meant Pope’s weight was probably pushing on him too hard.

It took a lot of effort but Pope rolled off, taking Adrian with him, pulling him partway over Pope’s chest. Adrian’s breathing immediately deepened.

“You okay?” His own voice was low and raspy and frankly, it was embarrassing. 

That had been mind-blowing sex. His mind was definitely blown.

Adrian snuggled close; his mind must’ve been blown, too.

Pope never initiated cuddling but he wasn’t stupid and he took advantage of the opportunity to run his hand up and down Adrian’s spine and across his shoulders. As though Adrian was an angel and he was tracing his wings.

His angel. Milky complexion, blond copper tinged hair, deep blue eyes. 

Fallen angel.

He let his worries fade away and enjoyed the moment.

-0-

Pope paused outside the bedroom and observed his angel.

His angel who was scratching at his inner left elbow. .

Adrian’s legs were crossed and he had his left arm laid out across his thigh while the fingers on his right hand pushed, pulled and picked at the delicate skin there.

Learning from his previous attempt, this time Pope cleared his throat.

Adrian’s response was brutal and fast as he snapped his left arm behind him and leaned on it, smiling. His eyes were bright but he was flushed. Guilty looking.

“Let me look at it?” Pope made sure to hit the creaky floorboard so Adrian knew he was walking toward him.

The smile sharpened. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s see what other positions you can push me into.”

Pope took that for some sort of confirmation; Adrian had distracted him with sex the other day. Before that it was bringing up his family.

What could Adrian possibly be hiding on his arm? “Let me see.” He’d meant to ask instead of order but at least this time it looked like Adrian was going to comply.

Adrian drew the offending arm in front of him and held it out to Pope while looking across the room. Away from Pope.

Pope took Adrian’s forearm in his hands and tilted it toward the light. It looked like a tattoo.

He peered closer. No, not a tattoo; a burn. Someone had branded something into Adrian’s pale skin. 

His skin was otherwise unmarked, save for his freckles, as far as Pope could tell. He castigated himself; he should’ve noticed this himself. He was always in a rush to uncover the pretty package, sink into the heat, that he only noticed surface things. The blush across Adrian’s face, the way his eyes still sparkled with mischief or lust…except not right now. Adrian’s usually expressive face was set in a blank mask. 

“What does it say?” Adrian asked, still staring into the distance. His left pupil drifted inward a bit which told Pope he was tired. 

Pope looked more carefully. He could make out “TT”, some scarred skin, and “itch.” He let set Adrian’s arm back in his lap. “You’ve scratched the hell out of it, I can’t really tell.”

“Don’t lie to me. Everyone else always lies but not you.” Hadn’t Pope thought the same thing growing up? Adrian was usually honest with him.

Except when it came to his arm. Then he’d manipulated and distracted. “Why does it matter?”

Adrian rolled off of the bed, away from Pope. He crossed his arms. “It’s supposed to be my body. If I wanted it marked, I would’ve gotten tattoos. This…I didn’t agree to this.”

It came down to control. That was something Pope understood. For most of his life he’d either been under Smurf’s thumb or out of control. There had been little in between.

Until Adrian. He managed to smooth out Pope’s rough edges a little. Took Pope out of his own head.

Made him care.

Pope realized he could give some of Adrian’s power back. It might mean Adrian left him but maybe that was for the better. Instead of waiting around for it to happen, it would finally be over and he could get on with his life.

But this wasn’t about him, it was about Adrian. He wanted to say something to make Adrian feel better but he didn’t know how.

At least not yet.

He settled for, “Quit picking at it or it’ll get infected and I’ll have to take you to the doctor.”

Adrian’s shoulders slumped and he turned his head to the side, biting his lip.

His profile was beautiful. Guys weren’t supposed to be beautiful.

Pope left the room before he pushed Adrian down and fucked him into the bed. They excelled at that communication but Pope wanted to see if he could get Adrian’s paperwork in order and dissolve his status as indentured servant.

It was maybe the only thing Pope could give Adrian that would make him feel better.

-0-

Pope had gone into town and filed the paperwork. The bank had notarized it proving that Adrian was free of all debt.

He ran up the steps, punched in the code to the security system—he no longer worried about Adrian running away but he worried about someone breaking in—and stepped into the house. Home, sweet, home. It actually felt like a home.

He paused, listening for Adrian. Usually Adrian heard him, called out to him.

“Pope?”

Adrian was down the hallway, either the bedroom or the bathroom. Pope headed that way, a copy of the documents in his hand.

“I need help.” Adrian’s voice hitched.

Had he fallen and hurt himself? Usually Adrian was surefooted but accidents happened.

He tucked the papers into his back pocket and ran down the hallway. When he entered the bathroom, he could see this was no accident.

Bright red coated the sink. The floor.

Adrian’s arm.

His focus swung back to the sink where his razor sat atop the drain.

For a moment he thought Adrian had tried to commit suicide but he realized Adrian’s right hand was cupped over the inside of his left elbow. The place he’d been branded as TT’s bitch.

“What the hell did you do, dumbass?” Pope knelt down next to Adrian and pushed his hand away from the wound. Watery scarlet pumped fast enough Pope couldn’t see the wound.

Adrian tilted his head back against the bathtub. “I just wanted to scrape the top layer off. I went a little too deep.” 

Pope grabbed a towel hanging on the rack and put pressure on the wound. When he pulled it away, more of the frothy bright red blood bubbled out.

He wrapped the towel more securely around Adrian’s elbow. With one hand he unbuckled his belt, pulled it from the loops and wrapped it around the towel padded arm. “This might hurt.”

Adrian sat there a little too docile for Pope’s liking. Once Pope had the belt wrapped as tight as he could make it, he forced the prong into a hole, fastening it in place. It was awkward looking as hell but he needed to slow the blood flow down. “I think you might’ve nicked an artery.”

Eyes now at half-mast, blue bruise-like smudges beneath his eyes…definitely an artery. Pope levered Adrian against his chest, an arm beneath his knees and the other bracing his back. He’d left the front door unlocked in his haste to get to Adrian and unlocked it would stay as he didn’t have enough hands to close and secure it. 

He was surprised when Adrian managed to snag the doorknob with the hand of his uninjured arm and yank the door closed. Pope peered down to find Adrian’s eyes closed but a half smile on his face. “Not completely useless.”

Pope, flying high with adrenaline, snorted. “Just useless with a razor blade.”

Stuffing Adrian into the passenger seat—he needed to keep an eye on him—Pope practically slid across the hood of his Jeep. The road into town was bumpy and with each jolt, Adrian seemed to list farther and sink lower in the seat. 

“You still wake?” Pope barked when he looked over and Adrian seemed to be asleep.

“Uh huh.” The response did not exactly inspired confidence.

It was the longest thirty minutes of his life which was saying something before he pulled in front of the Ángeles Clínica. Adrian seemed heavier in his arms this time as Pope muscled him out of the Jeep and carried him into the clinic.

The receptionist gasped, stood up and showed Pope back into the locked section of the clinic right into an exam room. 

The same doctor who had treated—sort of treated?—Adrian before stepped into the room. “No desperdicio recursos en esclavos.”

Pope almost went for the gun in his ankle holster. “He’s no longer an indentured servant. I think he accidentally cut his artery. Now fix him.” The _or else_ was implied.

The doctor seemed fluent in Pope and got right down to the business of fixing Adrian’s botched job. Pope refused to leave the exam room although he stood off to the side when another person—nurse or doctor—joined the first. 

The first doctor excused himself, muttering beneath his breath about _idiotas_. Pope ignored him. 

The woman in the lab coat stitched the cut with competent movements before she stripped off her gloves, went to the sink and scrubbed her hands. “Do you know what happened?” She asked over her shoulder. Her English was excellent, barely detectable accent, but it was the non-judgmental way she phrased the question he appreciated most.

“He accidentally cut himself with a razor.” Pope knew it sounded stupid because most people didn’t know Adrian was blind.

The doctor returned to Adrian’s side, snagging a blood pressure cuff from a basket. She wrapped a cuff around Adrian’s right upper arm and inflated it before putting the stethoscope buds into her ears. “Like a boa constrictor.” Adrian’s words were kind of slurred and he didn’t fight the cuff; he was still out of it.

She seemed to concentrate, relaxing finally as she loosed the pressure on the cuff. “Low but it could’ve been worse.” She looked down at Adrian with a faint frown on her face. “His blood should have clotted better. Is he on blood thinners?” 

Pope nodded. “He has headaches almost daily. He’s blind.”

She pulled another pair of gloves on, grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and large cotton pads before returning to Adrian. She efficiently cleaned up the bloodbath staining his skin before bandaging the stitched-up wound.

“Ah, the accident with the razor makes a bit more sense now. I’m going to finish assessing your friend. Why don’t you go out front and pay Marixta? That way you can sit with him before he’s released.” She gave Pope a tired smile. She was very attractive with long, glossy brown hair and big brown eyes. At one time he might’ve thought about banging her.

Now he had Adrian. 

Although Adrian still hadn’t roused all of the way and that concerned him. A lot. He’d thought Adrian would eventually leave him but not like this. “Does he need a blood transfusion or something?”

“I’m going to give him some orange juice. Or you will. I think once we get his fluid levels up, he’ll feel better.” She went to the counter and started pulling some things out. Pope felt dismissed and decided to follow her suggestion.

If he could take Adrian home this afternoon, he would consider this a success.

-0-

Pope entered the bedroom, pressing down hard on the creaky floorboard.

Adrian lifted his head. “Pope?”

“Right here. I’ve got some juice.” Pope set the glass down on the nightstand.

Crinkling his nose, Adrian turned his head toward Pope. His complexion still matched the color of the white pillow case but it was still an improvement over the white and red mess in the bathroom. “More orange juice?”

“More orange juice. That’s what you get for trying to bleed out in the bathroom.” Pope put sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to prop you up so you don’t choke. One emergency a day is the limit.” He slid his hand beneath Adrian’s neck and tilted him up. With his other hand he grabbed the glass and held it to Adrian’s lips.

Adrian swallowed the orange liquid down like his life depended on it. Before Pope could remove the glass, Adrian touched his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Pope set the glass down, pulling away from Adrian’s touch.

Adrian frowned, closed his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. His lips were pulled into a straight line. Like he was bracing for news he didn’t want to hear.

Pope wanted nothing more than to climb in next to Adrian, pull the covers over his head and sleep. It had been a long day with too many ups and downs and now he wanted to relax. Although he still needed to tell Adrian his news.

“Can you sit up for a minute? I want to talk to you.” Pope sat with his right knee bent, facing Adrian, waiting until Adrian agreed before hoisting him upward. 

Adrian’s eyes flew open at the change in position. Pope kept a close eye on him, making sure he didn’t pass out. He was going to settle him against the pillows behind him when Adrian tipped forward, landing against Pope’s chest with an, “Oomph.”

He took advantage of the position and gathered Adrian against his chest. Hugged him close although he was mindful of Adrian’s injured arm perched atop a pillow.

“Pope?” Adrian said his name in a small voice. “Is everything okay?”

“You really scared me today.” He held his breath, waiting for Adrian to pull away. Adrian always initiated cuddling and he hadn’t.

Adrian threw his good arm around Pope’s back, pulling him closer. “Yeah, it was kind of a shitty day. But this is nice.”

Pope silently agreed.

He finally made himself pull away although he was heartened when Adrian seemed reluctant. “I, uh, have some news.”

Adrian frowned. “What kind of news?” His left pupil definitely strayed inward; the telltale sign Adrian was tired. The doctor had given him some referrals for neurologists.

But that wasn’t his news.

“You’re free. I filed the papers dissolving your indentured servant status.”

Adrian caught his breath and pulled out of Pope’s arms to lean against the pillows. Pope couldn’t tell what he was thinking because he'd pulled out his stone face again.

Pope sighed. “I thought you’d want this, to be free. To be in control.” Had he managed to fuck even this up?

Leaning forward, Adrian managed to catch Pope’s hand with his. “So, you’re not kicking me out because I’m a dumbass and too much work?”

“No, definitely not. I want you to live here. With me. But only if that’s what you want. You’ve got options but I don’t want…,” Pope paused, inhaling deeply, trying to get his words right.

Adrian bit his lip; it drove Pope crazy. But now was not the time.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck here with me. If you stay it’s because you want to be here with me.” This is where things had always gone awry with his previous, very brief, relationships.

Pope caught Adrian as his weight sagged forward again. It was his fault Adrian was overdoing it and he’d gone and fainted—

Adrian giggled; Pope could feel the huffs of air against his throat. “Fuck, you scared me. I thought you were giving me the boot.” He leaned away, under his own steam, smiling. “Pope, you’re the most stable relationship I’ve ever had, for what it’s worth. I’d like to stay. As long as you don’t mind.”

This time Pope felt a little faint. This relationship shit was scary. 

It wasn’t a declaration of undying love but with a relationship based on slavery, Pope thought it was still a good one. They had trust.

Lust.

Caring.

He brushed his lips against Adrian’s. Softly. Sweetly. Usually he didn’t like to kiss but this was different.

Adrian was different.

Pope hoped he wouldn’t fuck this thing up.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Branded was the prompt for this story.
> 
> Thank you!


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